The Parsons Family (Photo by Lauren Mulcahy)
Ed. note: This is the latest installment in a series of posts on motherhood in the legal profession, in partnership with our friends at MothersEsquire. Welcome Claire E. Parsons back to our pages.
It might be a great story if I could tell you how I advocated for myself with my law firm during my first, and most difficult, pregnancy, but I’m still practicing as a partner with the same firm because I didn’t have to. I don’t usually lack the ability to fight. My opposing counsel will vouch that I have no qualms about making demands or setting boundaries. But, even if we have a capacity or a skill, it doesn’t mean we are always able use it.
The reason it mattered so much that I didn’t have to persuade my then bosses to treat me well during my first pregnancy was that, at that time, I was unable to do it. Why? Because it was one of the lowest and scariest points of my life. At the time, I believed, albeit incorrectly and unconsciously, that the difficulties in my pregnancy were my fault.
After an otherwise normal pregnancy, my daughter was diagnosed at around 20 weeks as “IUGR.” I later learned that this meant she was small, but the reason was unknown and confounding since I’m 5’11’’ and had been a nearly 10-pound baby myself. During the ultrasound where this was discovered, I lay helpless, exposed, and covered with goo, as the tech learned my occupation and cross-examined me about whether I was “working too much.” Clearly, she believed I’d caused it and I was too shocked and ashamed to disagree. After ordering rounds of bi-weekly tests to monitor the baby’s progress, the doctor seemed to echo this unstated accusation as she warned me to avoid working past 5 p.m.
I cried most of that night, then went to my boss the next morning to convey the news. I offered no solution to manage the situation and my case load because I had none. But, without a single mention of billable hours, my boss volunteered that I should reduce my work schedule even more than the doctor had recommended and he gave the only good advice for such a situation: to put myself and the baby first. While I was still scared, I was reassured to have my firm’s support as I managed my health, my baby’s growth, and my work.
As the weeks went on, the baby grew but not as much as we’d hoped. With no warning, I was put on bed rest for three weeks before labor could be induced. I remember calling my mom in tears to drive me to the hospital because I was too shaken to drive myself a few miles. Then I remembered I had a brief due soon, panicked for a moment, and called another partner to discuss it. She told me to forget about it, that she’d handle it, and that I had no choice but to rest as the doctors had ordered. I hated giving up a project and leaving someone else to pick up the slack, but it was a relief to know I didn’t have to try to focus on a brief when all I could think about was my baby’s safety.
When my daughter was born, she was tiny but gorgeous and healthy. Unfortunately, she was tongue-tied and could not breastfeed. I saw this as yet another failure and tried unsuccessfully for three weeks to redeem myself by getting her to latch. Pumping and attempting to feed the baby around the clock resulted in minimal sleep, crying jags, endless frustration, and more feelings of failure. Eventually, we started formula and therapy helped me become aware of and confront the unconscious belief that I had failed as a woman not once but twice, since I couldn’t grow or feed the baby.
My firm never knew any of this, but for this reason, I was fortunate that they didn’t demand that I come back early to compensate for the three weeks I’d spent on bed rest. The truth was that I needed the full period of my leave to accept that my daughter was okay, catch up on sleep, and recover from my experience. By the end of my leave, I was still exhausted but at least felt able to face the world.
When I returned to work, my practice picked up where it left off. I still got quality work, contact with clients, and no one ever assumed that I couldn’t handle projects because I had a new baby. Within a year, I second-chaired a successful wrongful death trial. The next year, I won two significant awards for community service and professional achievement. The following year, I successfully first-chaired a jury trial. The next year, I made equity partner. And as my practice grew up, so did my daughter. She’s healthy though still petite, and she has a limitless imagination, a huge heart, and is a fantastic big sister. As it turns out, I didn’t fail at anything at all when I made her.
How did my law practice survive a difficult pregnancy? It survived the way we all survive when life happens to us: with decency and compassion. Because my firm helped my practice survive, we have since been able to make it thrive. Now, as a partner, I mentor associates, market the firm, and bring in new business.
I didn’t write this to tell you what your firm’s policies should be, but I hope your firm remembers the human factor when it is setting and implementing policy. In my case, compassion from my firm saved my practice when my life took a turn that I didn’t expect. That kindness helped my firm retain a talented, loyal, motivated attorney who plans to practice for decades more. For a little while, I didn’t believe in myself. Because the partners in my firm stood by me, I believe in them and work hard every day to make sure they know it.
Earlier: Mothers At Law: Achieving Meaningful Success In The Legal Profession
Claire E. Parsons is a Member at Adams, Stepner, Woltermann & Dusing, PLLC in Covington, Kentucky where she focuses her practice in local government practice, school law, and civil litigation. She is the mother of two girls and the Content and Communications Chair for MothersEsquire. You can email her at claire@claireeparsons.com, follow her on Twitter @ClaireEParsons, or connect with her on LinkedIn.
Jennifer DeTrani is General Counsel and EVP of 
